Some Enchanted Evening
by WelshWitch1011
Summary: FAGE fic for Ash Knight. Doctor Who/Captain America/Agent Carter Crossover. Because soul mates are meant to be together; even if that means crossing time and space to find them.
1. Chapter 1

**FAGE 8:Soul Mates**

 **Title: Some Enchanted Evening**

 **Written for: Ash Knight**

 **Written By: WelshWitch1011**

 **Rating: T (for violence)**

 **Pairing Given: Steve/Peggy crossover.**

 **Summary/Prompt used: _"We love people not so much for the good they've done us, as for the good we've done them."_**  
 ** _― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace._**

 **If you would like to see all the stories that are a part of this exchange visit the facebook group: Fanficaholics Anon: Where Obsession Never Sleeps, or add the C2 to get all the stories direct to your inbox.**

 **community/FAGE-8-Soul-Mates/93625/ﾧ**

* * *

After traversing the galaxy and travelling through the very fabric of time and space, the prospect of a quiet Saturday evening on Earth should have been a sobering and altogether forgettable prospect for a Time Lord.

Yet as he reclined against the cushions of a rather regular sofa, watching shockingly sub-standard Saturday night television, the Doctor would have found it difficult to think of a time or place he would have rather been in than that very normal, boring Earth moment.

His tweed jacket had been long abandoned and now adorned the arm of the sofa, and as he cast a glance around the very regular, rather unspectacular living room, a smile settled on his features.

Yes, there were truly magical sights to behold on every corner of the galaxy, and adventure coursed through his veins with every beat of his hearts - but this- this was perhaps the most wondrous reality he could have imagined.

The fields of Trenzalore, a hundred years of solitude on Christmas, and a - regeneration; never would he have imagined that he'd be there, in that moment, with the woman he had somehow always known he loved.

"Doctor? Everything okay?"

Eyebrow arched in preparation for his reply, the Doctor bestowed an adoring smile upon the woman in his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Perfect, Clara. Absolutely perfect," he assured her, sighing contentedly as she mirrored his expression and snuggled back into his embrace. Her cheek pressed against his chest, and he squeezed her gently before giving in to impulse and brushing a second kiss into her hair.

"Don't think much of any of those singers," she stated somewhat dismissively, wrinkling her nose as the line-up on the televised talent show all stood assembled on the stage, and a commentator read out the phone numbers for prospective voters to save their favourites from elimination.

"Well, they're not a patch on Frank or Bing..." the Doctor agreed, thinking back to the evenings he had spent around a piano with musical legends he simply considered his friends. A blush crept across his cheek as he recalled their more mischievous exploits, and he cleared his throat as he felt Clara's brown eyed gaze level on his face.

"I don't want to know, do I?" she speculated, pursing her lips and biting back a smile as the Doctor offered her a brief shrug and a flustered 'well...' fluttered from his lips.

Rolling her eyes, Clara sat up and yawned, stretching to shake herself from the sleepy reverie she had found herself drifting in to. Whether it was the safety of his arms or the gentle thrum of his hearts beneath her ear, she found that the Doctor had a maddeningly calming effect on her sometimes - ironic given just how many times they had waded into untold dangers on their travels together.

But perhaps, really, it was that Clara felt loved. For the first time in her life, she wasn't afraid of being lost or abandoned. The Doctor had literally searched time and space to find her, and his unswerving loyalty and devotion was evident in every word, touch, and gesture that passed between them.

The Time Lords had deigned to help him on Trenzalore, spurred on by the impassioned plea of the woman who loved him, and demanded that they see the importance of his existence just as she did. Clara still wasn't sure how her cries had reached them, but every moment they spent together she was immensely grateful for.

"I'm going to make tea," she stated, still perched on the edge of the sofa at his side. Leaning closer for a moment she kissed him quickly, giggling as his arm swept out and he puller her closer, repeating the gesture until she was laughing against his lips.

"Back in a minute!" she promised, still smiling to herself even as he watched her retreating form disappear out of the doorway.

"Oooh, have we got any Jammie Dodgers?" he asked hopefully, eyebrows raised as he waited with baited breath for her reply.

There was no better compliment to a nice cup of tea than a Jammie Dodger, in his professional, tea drinking opinion. It was a truly magical pairing; like Fred and Ginger, Lennon and McCartney... the Doctor and his Clara.

"Yep. Shall I just bring the packet in?" she shouted back, unable to see just how elated her suggestion had made him.

"Splendid idea!" he called back, adding a sincere shout of, "thanks!"

Leaning back against the cushions, the Doctor inhaled slowly, his lips pulled into a smile that made his eyes shine with wonderment.

A nice cup of tea, a biscuit, and his Impossible Girl - life really didn't get much better than that. And of course he would know, being something of an expert on the subject of living multiple lifetimes.

He wasn't sure just how long he had spent in a pleasant reverie before Clara returned to the room- two steaming mugs of tea in her hands and a packet of his prized biscuits precariously clutched under her arm.

"Smashing!" the Doctor enthused, rubbing his hands together as he prepared to gently remove the mugs from her grasp and deposit them onto the coffee table beside him.

Clara sat down slowly at his side, her attention now caught up in the action playing out on the news. The war between the Avengers had taken up the majority of the focus on most news programmes for the last few days, and S.H.I.E.L.D. had given little away as to their plans to bring peace and reconciliation to the divided heroes. Although if the details now being described by the news anchor were true, it was perhaps too late.

"He's really dead?" Clara asked sadly, her expression conveying her disbelief and sorrow at the events of the day. Clutching her mug between her hands, she leaned forward in her seat, allowing the steam from her mug to drift soothingly over her skin.

The Doctor sighed in a similarly melancholy manner, blindly opening the packet of biscuits and releasing a Jammie Dodger from its plastic confines.

"It would seem so," he nodded, sighing as he took a less exuberant bite of his biscuit than he had planned.

"That's really sad," Clara stated, leaning back against the sofa cushions and shaking her head as the packet of biscuits was proffered in her direction. "He seemed like a really nice bloke."

"Captain Rogers? Oh, yes. Lovely chap. An all-round good egg, really. _Yes,_ " the Doctor confirmed. His final, contemplative 'yes' drifting out on a sigh, as he thought about his meetings with the first Avenger - back when UNIT had assisted the SSR in the war effort.

Not quite processing the information that had unwittingly been passed to her, Clara continued on, "He was meant to be really kind... A gentleman. Bit like you, really."

She smiled affectionately at the Time Lord, a teasing glint in her brown eyes, "Except for all those muscles."

The Doctor arched a dark eyebrow, examining the centre of his second biscuit as he tried to rise above her good natured teasing.

"Well... I suppose I can see what I can do on my next regeneration," he pretended to stare contemplatively into space.

Almost instantly her palm came to rest gently yet urgently against his cheek, and she carefully angled his head to meet her gaze.

"No. I like this face," she said softly, her adoring expression helpfully conveying her true feelings on the subject.

"What? Even this old chin?" he asked, his fingers entwining around hers as they shared a sentimental smile.

"Especially the chin," she confirmed, leaning in and pressing a tender kiss against his jaw. She was just about to contentedly nestle into his embrace when his previous words caught up with her.

Suddenly turning to regard the man beside her, Clara hoisted her legs up underneath her, steadying her mug as she eyed him with new found impatience.

"Hang on... You've met him? You've met Captain America?"

The Doctor bobbed his head, too busy caught up chewing the jammy, crumbly delight he had just popped into his mouth to otherwise reply.

"I don't know. First, William Shakespeare, and now bloody Captain America! Anyone else I should know about?" she demanded, askance.

The Doctor swallowed his mouthful of biscuit and shot her a disbelieving and wholly exasperated glance.

"Well... YES, of course there is! I'm a thousand year old Time Lord! I've met... You know... Well, everyone."

Taking a moment to digest this new information, and the other boundless possibilities his explanation implied, Clara took a sip of her tea and reached for the biscuit packet.

A suddenly beaming smile illuminated the Doctor's face, and he leaned forward in his seat, his hands clasped on his knees as if that would somehow quell his excitement.

"Eh... Do you want to meet him?"

"Who?" Clara looked suitably confused.

Rolling his eyes, the Time Lord gestured toward the TV screen. "Captain Rogers!"

As if it were a wholly stupid question, Clara had already deposited her mug on the table and climbed to her feet before he had been able to so much as blink.

"Course I do!" she stated, a dangerously infectious smile blossoming across her pretty face, "come on, then!"

"Well.. I didn't mean _now,_ " the Doctor called out with a huff, even as the petite brunette was already halfway out of the door and quite clearly headed toward the Tardis parked - or wedged - in the corner of her bedroom.

"Oh... For Pete's sake," the Doctor sighed, casting a fleeting glance at the TV screen as resignation set in, and he contemplated the quiet night in he had actually been looking forward to all week. Well, for as much of the week as he'd been able to experience before impatience had set in and he'd found himself zipping between dates with his companion and newly appointed girlfriend.

Standing up somewhat glumly, he reached into his pocket and produced a wad of paper, which he cast down onto the table. "I bought a lottery ticket and everything,"

Clara's head appeared around the living room door, and she eyed him impatiently, trying to spur his advancement. "Come on. No time like the present!"

Shaking his head at her antics - although really, he knew he could deny his Impossible Girl nothing - the Doctor ambled out to follow her, his half-hearted protests apparently not reaching her human ears.

"Yes, yes there is! I've got a time machine, remember?!"

Snatching up his well worn tweed jacket, he twirled the garment on the tip of his finger and shrugged it on, following Clara down the now well rehearsed path to her bedroom.

He watched from the doorway of her room as she deftly clicked her fingers and the doors to the Tardis opened on command. A brief smirk tugged at his lips as he watched her effortlessly absorbed into his world, and he suddenly found it difficult to recall the loneliness that had haunted him before he had found her.

A disembodied voice called out from inside the time machine, and he picked his way carefully across her darkened room, casting a somewhat caustic glance at the dressing table stool that had become his left shin's unlikely nemesis.

"Are we going back to the forties? I've always wanted to go there! Doctor? Get a move on!" she called out, and he knew instantly she'd be headed for the expansive wardrobes of the Tardis, where all manner of clothing and garb was stored for such occasions. Clara was in her element whenever the opportunity for dressing up in historical costume arose, and this appeared to be no exception to the rule.

" _Bossy_ ," the Doctor smiled slyly, suddenly standing up straighter and removing his hands from his pockets like a guilty school boy, as her voice rose over the gentle whirring of the Tardis engines once again.

"Did you say something?"

Unable to contain an excitable smile from overcoming him, the Time Lord adjusted the bow tie around his neck as he stepped into the doorway of his beloved Tardis and closed the doors with a flourish.

"Coming, dear!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

The Doctor would never know just how Clara had managed to have herself assembled at the door of the Tardis in under ten minutes, clad in a red spotted tea-dress, her make up perfectly applied and her hair arranged in neat victory rolls. Generally, she was the most extraordinary bathroom hog and, no matter what manner of adventure beckoned, she spent so long getting ready to face it that the Doctor had considered more than once simply abandoning the idea of going out at all. However, he supposed excitement could be a wonderful motivator, and Clara appeared nothing if not thrilled by the prospect of meeting Captain America back in his original timeline. The Doctor himself had to admit that there was something almost romantic in nature about the 1940s, despite the burdens of war and oppression that had tainted the globe, and he found himself fixing his arm just a little tighter around Clara's tapered waist as the Tardis arrived at its destination.

Clara bounced on the balls of her feet, grinning like the Chesire cat as she peered up at the Doctor and clapped her hands together.

"We're really here!" she giggled, her eyes sweeping his amused expression.

"Yes," he replied, doing his utmost to maintain a gentlemanly air and refrain from bursting into laughter at Clara's childish glee.

"On the other side of that door is _the_ Captain Steve Rogers!" she continued, punctuating her sentence with a thoroughly girlish squeal. "I'm going to meet Captain America... Cap... Leader of the Avengers..."

"Ah, well, remember, not just yet," the Doctor interjected, his smile somewhat nervous as he surveyed Clara, who he only hoped could manage to compose herself sufficiently so as not to betray her knowledge of the future.

Sensing his unusual nervousness, Clara smiled weakly and reached up to smooth down her hair. "Sorry. I'm a bit over-excited aren't I?!"

Unable to contain the smile that twitched at his lips, the Doctor allowed a similarly enthusiastic countenance to envelop him, and he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Not every day you get to meet a superhero, I suppose."

Thinking back on her travels with the Doctor, and the adventures the two had had together, she narrowed her eyes and tilted her head playfully as she looked up to regard him.

"Selling yourself a bit short there, Doctor."

Slipping her arm though his, she grinned as she saw a very pleased yet very self-conscious blush taint his cheeks.

"Well..." he cleared his throat, adjusting his bow tie with a clearly delighted flourish. "I do what I can."

"And a sonic is much cooler than a vibranium sheild anyway," Clara stated, winking mischievously at the Doctor before she flung open the doors of the Tardis, which let out a soft whooshing noise of indignance at such rough treatment.

"So, quick brief, it's 1943, Captain America is involved with not only the US military but also the SSR, a government agency who are entrusted with protecting the public from information of a... Shall we just say, sensitive nature," the Doctor explained, flashing Clara a grin as he gestured to himself. She nodded, her mouth open in a small 'o' of understanding.

"If my calculations were correct, which obviously they always are," the Doctor scoffed, recovering quickly in order to continue, "we should be at the UNIT headquarters in London... Not the ones under the tower, the other ones... just in time to see Captain Rogers meet with the director about a top secret mission into enemy territory."

Clara nodded, suddenly frowning as she placed her hand on the door of the Tardis in her haste to meet with one of the greatest heroes of the twentieth and indeed, twenty first century.

"Hang on. Won't they notice us sneaking around?"

The Doctor grinned, pulling an ID tag from his pocket that looked like it had seen better days, and possibly a couple of centuries.

"Now Clara, who do you think was one of UNIT's most trusted strategic advisers?"

"What... You?" she blinked, once again bemused by just how frequently the Time Lord seemed to pop up in pivotal moments in Earth history. Perhaps humans weren't quite as smart as they'd like to think, since it seemed some of their greatest military campaigns as well as works of literature were somehow inspired by a bow tie wearing alien.

"So you won the war then eh, Doctor?!" she teased, smiling at his bashful grin and the suitably self-deprecating shrug he replied with.

"I merely assisted. The good men and women of the Allied forces secured victory. I was just an... Educated bystander," he pushed open the door of the Tardis and grimaced, "although according to the Americans, John Wayne seems to have single-handedly won the second world war. And don't even get me started on 'U571'. A cinematic travesty!"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Clara commented through an indulgent smile, tapping the Doctor on the chest before she added, "time to go."

Nodding, the Doctor pushed open the doors of the Tardis, then offered his arm to Clara, who grinned at the gesture. It never failed to delight her that she had managed to secure herself one of the very few remaining gentlemen in the world, even if she had had to explore inter-species dating in order to do so. She was fairly certain that said a lot about the majority of young, human males.

"This is so exciting," Clara trilled, although her voice was barely a whisper as the Doctor closed the doors of the Tardis and locked them securely, before dropping his key into his breast pocket.

Turning slowly on her heel, she scrutinised the hallway they found themselves in. She took in the dark wood panelling, framed oil paintings of previous prime ministers lining the walls, and luxurious maroon carpet underfoot with an expression of complete and utter awe. From somewhere nearby, the soft strains of a jazz song could be heard playing on a gramophone, and Clara felt a tiny shiver course through her body as the romantic nature of her setting sunk in.

Reaching out to his side just as Clara did the same, the couple joined hands as they were always inclined to do on such occasions.

' _Hold hands. Keep holding hands, and don't let go.'_

It was a mantra the love-struck Time Lord liked to live by in regards to his Impossible Girl.

Two heavily armed soldiers strolled past the pair, pausing to nod with obvious reverence at their alien visitor. The gesture didn't escape Clara, and she glanced up at the Doctor and arched an eyebrow pointedly.

Adjusting his braces more out of affectation than need, he simply shrugged, "Well, you've either got it or you haven't."

Giggling quietly to herself, whilst remembering the solemnity of their surroundings, Clara led him with slightly more urgency toward the end of the hallway. Approaching voices suddenly caught the Time Lord's ear, and he held up a finger as recognition set in.

As if on cue, Steve Rogers rounded the corner of the furthest doorway, lost in conversation with a tall, rather statuesque brunette at his side.

"Oh my God," Clara whispered excitedly, her nails now gripping into The Doctor's arm with an alarming degree of strength. "It's him! And that's Peggy Carter! Sorry, but I'm about to have a total fangirl moment. I'm about to meet Captain America and Peggy Carter!"

"Yes, well, you might want to perhaps tamp that enthusiasm down a little," the Doctor suggested in a whisper, "remember, at this point in time, Miss. Carter is still just another intelligent and, uhm, capable young woman attempting to succeed in a male dominated world, so..."

"Got it, not a murmur about S.H.I.E.L.D. or any of that super spy stuff," Clara agreed quickly, fixing a wide smile on her face as the object of their discussion drew closer. Her body was aligned at an angle just so with Captain America's, so that as the couple walked in step, their arms and hands brushed together gently. Peggy herself seemed to be wearing a wide smile, the apples of her cheeks rather tellingly flushed in addition.

Clara narrowed her eyes, suddenly tugging at the Doctor's hand and forcibly dragging him into the shelter of a nearby doorway. The Doctor found himself following his girlfriend wholly unexpectedly into a secret hiding place, releasing a startled cry as Clara pressed his back flat against the wall, one finger pressed to his lips to demand silence.

"Clara, what are you...?" he mumbled around her finger, his eyes widening as she slapped her entire hand over his mouth.

"Investigating a theory, now shush, there's a good boy," Clara hissed, suddenly turning her back on the rather startled Doctor and gingerly poking her head around the door frame.

Once certain that he wasn't about to make any undue noise or squeal of protest, Clara lifted her hand from his lips and widened her eyes imploringly as she mimed a 'shhh' motion against her index finger.

"Clara!" the Doctor mouthed frantically, watching as she crept down the hall in the wake of the impossibly glamorous couple, and came to a stop outside the door of what looked to be a changing room. There was no sign to denote a male or female changing room, and Clara assumed that was more an indication of the patriarchal society she currently found herself in, when it had been thought that most women would not be undertaking the kind of 'work' Agent Carter had immersed herself in.

Hearing hushed voices coming from inside the room, Clara stole a peak inside and was immediately validated on her earlier suspicions. Steve Rogers sat on the bench beside Peggy, their hands entwined and her head resting on his shoulder. Clara couldn't see Steve's face, but from the adoring gaze Peggy held him in, and the tender manner in which he stroked the back of her hand, it wasn't difficult to see that they were quite obviously besotted with each other.

Yet in their gentle touches and lingering glances, there was something more; something Clara realised with a sad, sinking feeling descending on her, was love. And it had been lost to them, and the young woman suddenly found her heart breaking for the pair.

The loneliness and loss in Steve's eyes lived on in him even in present day. He would never stop missing the woman he left behind, or the life they could have spent together.

"I knew it," Clara murmured, as she stole away from the doorway, no longer wishing to intrude on such a private moment when she was aware that there would be precious few more afforded to the pair.

"Knew what?" the Doctor demanded, thoroughly bemused as he followed down the hallway in Clara's wake, noting the sudden melancholy slump of her shoulders.

"Captain Rogers and Agent Carter," Clara stated, as though the answer should have been evident. "They were in love."

The Doctor gazed at his girlfriend for a moment, before understanding suddenly dawned, lighting up his features with a huge smile.

"That's what that was about?" he inquired, chuckling as he patted Clara's hand, before bringing it close to where his two hearts beat in unison. "You could have just asked!"

"You knew?" Clara pressed, and suddenly her tone was far less soft and gentle, and far more accusing.

Looking evidently flabbergasted, The Doctor's eyes widened and he looked down upon her in bewilderment. "Well, yes. Everybody knew that."

"Not... everybody!" Clara punctuated each word with a short, sharp, punch to the top of his arm.

"Oi! Oi!" the Doctor stepped back, instantly realising the cause of her upset but upset by the mild assault no less.

"It's not fair, Doctor," Clara lamented, her eyes brimming with tears, perhaps both for Steve and Peggy, but also for the tragedy that had also threatened to separate her from the man she loved. "They lost each other... Seventy bloody years apart, and... it's just really sad."

Immediately the Time Lord's resolve broke, and he gently pulled his companion against his chest and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"There, there, Clara. It's history, my love. I'm afraid it happened, and... there's nothing anybody can do to change it. Not even a Time Lord."

"Why?" Clara challenged, lifting her gaze to his with a decidedly accusatory glare that made the Doctor blanch.

"Well, because... time lines, and... you know... and... I'm not supposed to meddle!" he hissed in a whisper, suddenly looking up and almost standing to attention as two UNIT scientists came toward them, a warm smile in place upon identifying their visitor.

"Doctor! How splendid of you to make it, old chap. Wasn't sure if you got my message or not."

"Oh uhm, yes, yes, of course," the Doctor replied with a suddenly beaming smile, hardly appearing to notice that he was beginning to babble, "I never fail to pick up a message. Love messages, in fact."

"Indeed," the scientist replied, a somewhat bemused smile appearing fleetingly on his lips.

"Indeed," the Doctor echoed, chuckling as he added, "So, um... What was the message again?"

Placing his hand on the Doctor's shoulder, the older of the two scientists began to walk their visitor down the corridor towards the labs, allowing Clara to only make out brief snippets of the conversation. She thought she deciphered the word 'gun' somewhere along the way, and judging from her boyfriend's skittish and wholly uncomfortable demeanour, she was quite comfortable in that assumption.

However the Time Lord had assisted the Allies in defeating the Nazis, it had not been connected with weaponry.

Almost as soon as they had reached the UNIT laboratories, a pile of blue prints, sketches, and engineering designs had been flung onto a table before the Doctor, and he flipped through them with a cursory arch of his eyebrow.

"Sorry chaps, but I'm not really the person to ask about... You know... Guns," he said the word as if it left a nasty taste in his mouth, but he recovered quickly, "but I'm sure with those specifications and the alterations Dr. Greene here has suggested it'll work out quite...um... Yes."

He ran his fingers through his hair, at a loss for further words. This was not the type of technological advance that UNIT usually called on him to advise on.

Noting Clara standing beside him as she craned her neck to get a better look at the apparently top secret design, he pointed to her with an smile and much needed explanation.

"Ah, gentlemen, this is my assistant, Miss Oswald."

"How'd you do," Clara nodded, smiling politely as the two men eyed her with a slightly disparaging expression on their faces.

The older gentleman - who sported a pair of wire rimmed glasses, a waistcoat, and an air of superiority that exuded from every pore - regarded the Doctor with surprise.

"You have a female assistant?"

Scratching his chin thoughtfully, and mindful of the daggers Clara was likely to be glaring right about now, he bobbed his head.

"Yeah, well, you know. Got to move with the times, eh boys?"

Seeing the blank-faced stares he was rewarded with, he cleared his throat. "Or... Not."

A commotion further down the lab suddenly demanded all of their attention, and a tall, fair haired man stalked toward them, a pistol grasped in his hand.

"Agent Haller? What on earth are you doing?" the chief scientific officer demanded, rising from his seat and bustling towards the man with a horrified expression on his bearded face.

"Hand over the blueprints!" Agent Haller demanded, all pretence now gone, along with his mid-western American accent. In its place was the harsh, clipped tones of a German officer.

Looking around the room, eyes wide, the Doctor pointed his finger accusingly as he swept the lab, unable to recall this incident happening during his WWII service.

"Okay, so... Definitely wasn't around when this happened before, pretty sure I would have remembered."

"Doctor!" Clara whispered, "what do we do?"

He reached out slowly to usher her behind him, yet the motion caused the now unmasked Nazi spy to turn sharply in their direction.

"Nobody move!" he snapped, stepping back precariously as he checked that those behind him were complying. The older scientists posed little threat to the physically fit, not to mention armed, assailant, so he trained his gaze on the Doctor.

"You! Put the blue prints in the bag. No sudden movements, or I shoot her!" he snarled, training the barrel of the gun on Clara, whose eyes were wide in panic. Even after facing off against the Daleks, Cybermen, and a host of other-wordly threats, having the gun of a German spy pointed at her was possibly the most terrifying circumstance she had been in.

Nodding, the Time Lord began to carefully roll up the papers, his ears picking up the sound of creeping footsteps in the hall, and he winced as he anticipated the intruder who was about to upset the dynamic of the fraught situation currently playing out around them.

"You don't want to do that, son..." Steve Rogers drawled, his tone calming and easy, as he strolled into the room, his hands held up in a gesture of surrender.

"I think this is exactly what I want to do," the man spat, his narrowed eyes fixed unblinkingly on the man who had just entered the lab. Steve frowned, shaking his head as he glanced at Clara momentarily, ascertaining her well being. When he observed the frightened look in her eyes, he offered her the tiniest encouraging smile before his face once again straightened out and he returned his attention to the man wielding the gun.

"Let's leave this nice lady out of this, shall we?" Steve suggested, although his tone was ringing with a kind of authority that not many would have the nerve to disobey.

However, the former Agent Haller merely scoffed, his finger twitching over the trigger of the weapon in warning.

"Hydra are not so sentimental, Captain," the man replied, a snake-like grin twisting his lips as he added, "you should know that already. My condolences on the loss of your friend."

If Steve was affected by the man's cruel taunt, he didn't let it show, and the steely determination in his blue eyes was unwavering.

"I don't wanna have to get physical with you, kid. But if you're gonna threaten these people, here, you're not gonna leave me with much choice," Steve reasoned, suddenly noting with concern how the scientist directly behind the spy seemed to be reaching for the paperweight on his desk with unwise intent.

"Let's not do anything hasty," Steve reasoned, hoping against hope that the scientist would heed his words as much as the German operative. Casting his gaze carefully toward the back of the room, Captain Rogers noted the rear exit was ajar, and he let out a slow, deep breath as he prepared to bring the incident to a hasty conclusion.

Standing in her stocking feet, so her heels had not alerted the man to her presence, Peggy Carter stood poised to strike, gun drawn and adrenalin racing through her veins.

She nodded once at Steve to indicate that she was about to make her move, however in that moment, the scientist also decided to try to play the hero, swinging around with the paperweight aimed at the spy's head.

Later on, the Doctor would comment that it was almost as though Captain America sensed the bullet about to leave the gun before the event actually occurred, but at that moment he found himself incapable of any kind of intelligible thought. His two hearts simply stopped beating as the bullet whizzed towards Clara's chest, certain to strike its mark and certain to be deadly.

"No!" the Doctor managed to yell, although there was very little else he could do to aid his girlfriend given the distance that separated them.

However, Steve Rogers was gifted with a strength and speed that, despite being an alien, the Doctor had never been afforded. As the German spy spun around to grapple with the scientist that had tackled him, the fired shot already forgotten, Steve dropped his shoulder and charged forwards.

He ploughed straight into Clara with bone jarring force, flinging his arms around her and pulling her into his broad chest, just as he turned his back to the oncoming path of the bullet.

They landed on the ground with an audible thud, and as the sound of the bullet striking the wooden panelling of the wall rang out, Clara found herself wrapped protectively in the Avenger's arms.

The commotion continued, as Peggy removed the scientist from the fray and managed push the man to safety. The Hydra officer fought hard against the assault, but with a well placed kick in a particularly sensitive region, the man crumpled to the ground, leaving Agent Carter to swiftly disarm him and plant him face first on the floor, his arms pulled tight behind his back.

"You okay over there, Peg?" Steve called out, helping Clara to her feet and checking her over with a hurried gaze.

"Quite all right, thank you!" she called back, beginning to cuff the snarling Hydra agent, even as tears of agony streamed down his face. Hauling him to his feet, she frog-marched him towards the door just as a team of SSR and UNIT soldiers arrived, guns at the ready.

"A little late to the party, boys," Steve remarked, watching with a small smile as the Doctor gathered Clara into his chest and rocked her in a gesture Steve knew was more for his own comfort.

"Well, I think that's more than enough excitement for you gentlemen, today," Peggy began, leaning on the nearest counter as she stepped back into her shoes and regarded the shaking and clearly terrified men with a wry smile.

The scientists, completely awestruck by the display they had just witnessed and the part that the formidable woman standing before them had played in it, merely nodded. Smirking, Peggy simply waved her hand in their direction somewhat dismissively.

"Do go and fetch yourselves a cup of tea. I fear you need it," Peggy said, her amusement evident as the scientists continued to stare. Turning her back, Peggy hurried over to Steve and the small, slight brunette woman who was visibly trembling in the arms of a man Agent Carter had not seen in a long time.

"Doctor! My goodness, what a surprise," Peggy stated, finally drawing up to Steve's side. Her eyes slid surreptitiously in his direction, scanning his body for any signs of injury and finding none.

Clara, however, was sporting a rather impressive blossoming bruise and a gash on the side of her face, where her cheek had hit the cold cement floor on her descent.

Finding himself humbled and awe-struck by their actions, the Doctor smiled weakly at his old acquaintance. "Agent Carter..."

"I'm almost certain I've told you before to call me Peggy," she stated, casting her brown eyes down toward Clara with genuine sympathy. "I imagine you could do with a good, strong cup of tea too? Doctor, do let me take your friend to get her cleaned up, that's a rather nasty bruise and I'd feel much better if I could put some ice on it."

Still slightly dumbfounded, and also devastated by his inability to save his beloved companion, the Time Lord nodded. Holding gently onto Clara's arms as he examined her for any sign of serious injury.

"Oh, Clara" he exclaimed shakily, pulling her back in for another fierce hug.

"My Clara," he repeated, stroking the back of her neck as he kissed her cheek gently.

"I'm fine. I'm okay," she insisted, wincing as she gingerly touched the corner of her eye.

Still smiling as though they were old friends, Peggy wordlessly slipped her arm through Clara's and offered the younger woman an encouraging wink.

"Let's leave the boys to the mess," Peggy suggested, although Clara noted how almost every word that left the woman's mouth seemed more akin to a command, as everyone around her simply fell in line. The Doctor flashed her a smile, beneath which Clara could easily detect his self-reproach. She made a mental note to discuss it with him later on, when her head was no longer spinning and her heart no longer racing from the heady combination of mortal peril and meeting two historical heroes.

On shaky legs, Clara walked at Peggy's side, realising quickly and with a sudden jolt of guilt that they were in fact heading in the direction of the changing room she had earlier spied on the Captain and his sweetheart from

Peggy made sure Clara was comfortable before disappearing for a few minutes, returning promptly with a steaming cup of hot, extra sugary tea, a First Aid kit, and an ice pack.

"There we are," Peggy said kindly, handing Clara the cup and saucer, which she took gratefully with slightly trembling hands. Placing her own hand in a comforting gesture on the young woman's shoulder, Peggy opened the First Aid box and quickly soaked a cotton ball in a strong smelling anti-septic.

"Might sting for a moment, I'm afraid," Peggy winced sympathetically, quickly cleaning up the cut on Clara's cheek and then gently holding the ice pack out to her new friend with a pointed smile.

"Thanks," Clara said quietly, taking another sip of tea before she took the old-fashioned ice bag and held it to her cheekbone.

"A rather nasty surprise for all concerned," Peggy said diplomatically, "still, you're in one piece, and I'm sure that's all that matters to our friend the Doctor,"

"How long have you known the Doctor?" Clara inquired, peering over the rim of her teacup at Peggy with obvious interest.

Peggy's smile was wide and immediate, her eyes twinkling, no doubt with the memories of many a colourful encounter with the Time Lord.

"Only a year, but that really is quite long enough to squeeze in a good adventure or several," Peggy quipped, bringing a soft chuckle tumbling from Clara's lips.

"He always struck me as rather a lonely sort," Peggy continued, her words almost a lament as she gazed sadly at Clara, "it seemed wrong to me that someone who cared so much about so many had nobody to return those feelings."

Clara nodded, her own thoughts drifting to the man she loved as she considered not for the first time how he suffered when alone.

"It's wonderful to see that he's found someone to share his life with," Peggy added, her voice soft and awed as she finished, "and what a magical life it is."

Clara smiled wistfully and chanced a glance up at Peggy, "He makes it magical."

Peggy crossed her legs and Clara could see the tension in her body as she was silent for a moment and then replied. "Well, I suppose the people we love make our lives magical... For however long we know them, and perhaps even after that."

Clara felt her heart seize just a little, and she decided they must change the subject if she weren't to defy the laws of the universe and time travel and just blurt out the terrible details of the future to the woman beside her. Yet somehow, Clara wondered if maybe Peggy already knew that her time with Steve was to be brief. The sadness in her eyes and quiet resignation seemed to confirm Clara's suspicions.

"I must look a proper fright," Clara began, reaching up and hesitantly touching her hair.

"Nonsense, nothing a bit of lipstick and a few hair pins won't fix," Peggy shook her head, standing up and walking over to one of the lockers, which she opened and rummaged in for a few moments.

Sitting back down beside Clara, she opened her hand out and offered the woman the gold cased lipstick and several hair pins she had salvaged from her own belongings.

"Oh, it's fine, really, I..." Clara protested, sensing that her protests were in vain as Peggy firmly shook her head and closed Clara's palm around the beauty products.

"Keep them. I have plenty more, I assure you," she promised, adding with a conspiratorial smile, "one of the few perks of working in the States. No shortage of lipstick or stockings!"

"You're really very kind," Clara stated, her eyes sweeping Peggy's face and deciding that the old black and white prints she had seen of the woman in her biography really did not do her justice.

Peggy only smiled patiently back in return.

"Now, let's see what we can do about that hair."

 _x-x-x_

The Doctor had found in all his hundreds of years of to-ing and fro-ing from Earth that he was very rarely awed in the presence of a supposed 'hero'; however, the exception to that rule was most definitely proving to be Steve Rogers.

Although the Doctor had always considered Captain America to be a kind man at heart and truly worthy of wearing his mantle, the act of saving Clara when he himself could not had well and truly cemented him in place as one of the Time Lord's favourite people throughout the history of the entire galaxy.

Standing outside the Tardis, the Doctor shook Captain Roger's hand repeatedly, explaining over and over how he could never thank him enough. Steve only smiled in response, genuinely happy to have assisted his old acquaintance and his sweetheart.

"Well from what I hear, you've saved the whole planet on more than one occasion, so... This one's on me," Steve said patiently, watching as the alien blushed and seemed for once at a loss for words.

"I assure you, Captain Rogers, you saved something today so much more precious to me than the entire universe," the Doctor said sincerely, breathing out yet another relieved sigh as he saw Peggy and Clara approaching, the latter now smiling widely as the two women chatted easily as if old friends.

Looking only briefly at Peggy, Steve nodded in understanding, "I know what you mean, Doctor. So let's call it even, huh?"

The Doctor smiled, clapping Steve on the back with one hand whilst holding out his other arm to Clara, who moved into his embrace with eagerness. Their foray into the 1940s hadn't gone quite as she had anticipated and, although everything had ended well enough, she was secretly pleased to be returning home to just another Saturday night in front of the television. Not that she would ever acknowledge as much to the Doctor; indeed, he'd be insufferable if she did.

"Time for us to be leaving, I'm afraid," the Doctor stated, stepping forward and planting a friendly kiss on Peggy's cheek. Offering the woman a wink, he added, "Keep up the good work, Agent Carter. I'm sure it will all pay off in the end."

"One would really hope," Peggy replied drily, before turning her attention and her smile upon Clara. "It was quite lovely to meet you, Clara. I do hope we're to see you again. Preferably before I'm old and grey, Doctor."

As the time travelling pair stepped into the unassuming looking police box, Steve suddenly stared thoughtfully at Clara, as if troubled by a recollection. "Say, you look awful familiar. Have we met before? You haven't been to Brooklyn?"

Appearing suitably baffled, Clara shook her head, watching as Steve shook off the apparent case of mistaken identity and stood at Peggy's side.

The doors of the Tardis closed behind them, and Clara let out a troubled sigh, leaning back against them, her arms folded across her chest and her chin lifted in defiance.

The Doctor knew that pose; he'd come to both adore and dread it in the two years Clara had been at his side.

"We have to help them," Clara stated, leaving little room for resistance. However, having been prepared to have to argue her corner, she blinked in surprise as the Time Lord stood before her and lifted his palm to her cheek. Bending his head, he planted a kiss against her lips, and ran his eyes over her face.

Reaching down to clutch her hand in his, he lifted it to his lips and repeated the kiss against her palm.

"Yes, Clara. I believe we do."

Her counter-argument dying on her lips, Clara paused. "Okay. So _not_ what I was expecting."

The gratitude that swelled both of his hearts could not be ignored, and despite the fact his actions were about to contravene every law of time travel he could recall, it was quite simply the right thing to do.

Smiling to allay her fears, the thousand year old Time Lord prepared once again to travel the furthest reaches of time and space for love. Although this time, not to search for his own lost love; this time, it was to reunite two more souls who should never have been parted.

Turning on his heel, he reached the console only moments before Clara and, as his hand reached to set the dials, levers, and cogs in motion, he offered his companion a jubilant wink.

"Geronimo!"


	3. Chapter 3

**SSR Offices - July 1948**

It was a curious myriad of emotions to process - excitement tainted by trepidation, hope dashed ever so slightly by the reminder of time's often ruthless passage.

The war in Europe had ended three years previously, and VJ Day had rung in the celebrations of the Allied victory in Japan; yet both had been strangely melancholy occasions for Peggy Carter.

One man remained absent from the celebrations, a man to whom so many owed their gratitude, and indeed their lives. Yet he would never get to witness the jubilant crowds gathering across the capital cities of the Allied forces, or hear the relieved and proud announcements from the dog-tired world leaders, declaring that victory was theirs, that an uneasy and (doubtlessly temporary) peace would once more descend on the world.

And now was another such occasion that Captain Steve Rogers should have borne witness to - the founding of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, named after the iconic shield he carried fearlessly into battle.

Planting her hands on her hips, the founder of this fledgling organisation cast a decisive gaze around the now empty bullpen, thinking back briefly on the time spent within its walls.

It would have been a moment of pure sentimentality, had it not been for the obnoxious cracking sound of peanuts being shelled beside her.

Biting down decisively on the shell of the nut in his hand, Howard Stark tossed the snack into his open mouth, and threw the shell into the trash can beside Peggy's desk.

Ignoring his typically American behaviour, Agent Carter folded her arms across her chest and took a deep breath against the nervous flutter that seemed to have taken up residence in her stomach.

"I'm not sure I can do this, Howard."

Spitting out the shell of another peanut, and grimacing as he realised he had missed his mark, Howard shook his head.

"Peg, if anyone can, it's you." Grinning widely, he added, "You think I'd sink so much of my hard earned dough into this little venture of ours if I didn't think you were gonna come through?"

Arching a dark eyebrow, Peggy smiled ruefully. "I believe you and I have very differing views on what constitutes as hard work."

Chuckling to himself, Howard shoved his hand into the bag of nuts and rummaged around for his next victim, allowing Peggy to begin emptying out her desk drawers and transferring their meagre content to a large, lidded, cardboard box.

He watched with interest, always keen to observe the habits of the opposite sex, should it one day prove useful.

Three pencils, two pens, a notepad, a pair of silk stockings that caused his eyebrow to raise and an immature smirk to flourish, a gold-cased lipstick, a bottle of Aspirin, and a handful of hair pins.

He frowned as he watched Peggy's demeanour change rapidly, and without even looking at the object in her hand he knew instantly what, or more importantly who, it pertained to.

Holding the manilla file in her hand, Peggy paused as her brown eyes flitted between the trash can and the cardboard box, indecision and guilt rapidly colouring her features, and an embarrassed blush settling on her cheeks.

Lowering her eyes away from Howard's gaze, Peggy opened the file and felt her breath instantly catch in her chest as she found the impossibly youthful and hopeful smile of Private Steve Rogers gazing back at her. Smoothing a perfectly manicured finger over the grainy image, Peggy swallowed hard and snapped the folder closed.

Placing it with the utmost reverence inside the box, she explained in little more than a whisper. "I'm not quite ready to let go yet. Not completely."

Howard sat forward in his seat, his grumbling stomach now forgotten. Placing a tentative hand on his friend's shoulder, he peered down into the box and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"I was thinking... Maybe in the new place, that we'd have some sort of memorial. Something... Something classy."

Peggy laughed softly despite the tears about to catch on her eyelashes, and she nodded in ready agreement. "I think that's a rather lovely idea, Howard."

Leaning closer with the utmost caution, Howard pressed an affectionate kiss to his colleague's cheek, earning himself a pat on the hand and a grateful smile for his understanding.

"Well, I think that's it!" Peggy stated, brushing under her eyes to ensure her make-up wasn't about to betray her melancholy state to the world.

"You gonna miss the place?" Howard enquired, already on his feet and reaching for the hat he had left perched on her desk.

Debating his question for only a moment, Peggy smiled, thinking back on the faces that had once stared at her from the now empty desks. "Oh, I don't know. It had it's moments I suppose."

Scooping the box up into his arms and swatting her hand away as she rolled her eyes at his uncharacteristic chivalry, Howard waited for her to drape her jacket over her arm, before they began to stroll in companionable silence towards the elevator.

"How about we go to that diner over on Second? Couple of club sandwiches, a few cocktails..."

Peggy sighed and shot Howard a playfully disparaging glare, "I hope you know that liquid lunches are a thing of the past, Mr. Stark."

Groaning and wincing in evident displeasure, Howard replied wryly, "You're a cruel task master, Director Carter."

Ignoring his quip and getting back down to the business, Peggy stated pointedly, "Hydra could resurface at any time, Howard. We must be ready to face them at a moment's notice. We're going to need our wits about us if we're going to make S.H.I.E.L.D. a success. The eyes of the world's security services are upon us, and we have to be diligent in our endeavours if we're to be taken seriously."

The doors of the elevators pinged open a second later, and Howard gestured to the woman beside him to step in before him.

Shrugging off her concerns with a huff, Howard cast a side-gaze at his much more focused colleague.

"Hey, those calamari worshipping krauts might be a crazy bunch of assholes, but they're not stupid enough to cause trouble on Peggy Carter's watch!"

Rolling her eyes, Peggy allowed a brief smile to twitch at her lips, before she turned to regard the playboy inventor with a suitably snooty expression.

"We must be vigilant, Howard. Hydra, Leviathon... Goodness knows how many other organisation are out there, just waiting for us to grow complacent."

Using his finger to push up the brim of his rather extravagant fedora, Howard ignored her obviously heartfelt yet achingly boring tirade.

"All work and no play makes Peg a dull girl!" he stated, pointing a finger in her direction before she had chance to launch a defence against his accusation. "Which is why I think you should join me for dinner tonight. I'm taking Gladys dancing, you should come with us. You could be like the uh... The uh... chaperone!"

Laughing at the very idea of joining Howard on one of his many exploits with the female residents of New York, Peggy shook her head and took the opportunity to claim back her box of possessions from his arms.

"A mission with an almost certain probability of failure!" she replied haughtily, "I think I'll pass, thank you."

Struggling to keep pace as Peggy strode across the foyer of the telecom building, Howard pressed his hand to his chest in a dramatic gesture. "You wound me, Peg."

"Gladys?" Peggy frowned, passing him the box back as she slipped deftly into her jacket before once more reclaiming it.

"Whatever happened to..." pulling her lips into a straight line, she tried with evident frustration to recall the name of Howard's last poor, unfortunate fling.

"Mabel?" Howard offered.

"No."

Scratching his chin thoughtfully, Howard appeared confused. "Trixie?"

"No, that wasn't it."

"Cindy?"

"No, that's not it, either."

Wincing against the blazing sunshine as they stepped out into the balmy heat of a Summer's day, Howard was momentarily silent before he managed to summon up another list of possible paramours.

"Bessie? Grace? Phoebe? Wait, what was the name of the one with the nervous tick? You know, the... the bank teller?" clicking his fingers in the air as if trying to conjure up said girl's name, he suddenly added triumphantly, "Deborah!"

"Good Lord, Howard!" Peggy exclaimed disdainfully, eyes wide as she processed the list of women that had apparently fallen prey to the billionaire's arguable charms. "Despite that impossibly long list, I believe it was another victim of yours I was referring to... Daphne? She seemed like a nice girl, far too nice for you, of course."

"Ohhhhh, Daph?" Howard nodded, a broad smile on his face as he suddenly recalled the short, unassuming redhead in question. "Yeeeeah, nice kid, real nice kid. She moved back to Boston with her folks, but I don't think that was ever gonna work out. Her family were pretty religious, kind of morally uptight... You know the kind."

"Totally unsuitable for you," Peggy agreed, a wicked glint in her eye, "was this an impromptu move to Boston?"

Bored of their back and forth sparring, Howard jammed his hands in his pockets and brought their leisurely stroll to a halt.

"Come on Peg, what do you say about tonight, huh? A little dinner, some dancing, you might even enjoy yourself. Besides, this girl's some kind of history buff, she's gonna need someone to talk to when she's not being swept off her feet by my debonair charms. And, you're British, you're like... Walking history! Come on, Peg. Eight o'clock, The Stork Club... At least think about it?"

All amusement drained from her face at the proposed venue, and it was several moments before she managed to block the sound of Steve's voice from her thoughts, as their final conversation replayed over and over in her mind.

Finally resolving to move forward and set herself free from the past that continued to haunt her, Peggy took a deep breath and huffed out a dramatic sigh.

"Oh, alright."

Joyous in his success, Howard clapped his hands together exuberantly and waggled his eyebrows at the evening ahead he had formulated, that - unbeknownst to Peggy - involved a blind date that she was currently unaware of. He'd deal with the fallout from that small detail later on.

Smirking as he adopted his best English accent, Howard flashed her an impossibly toothy smile. "Spiffing!"

* * *

A thin rivulet of blood ran slowly down his cheek, ebbing from one of the many wounds he had sustained in battle - in what was, by the accounts of modern history, his final battle.

Brushing absently at his face, Steve Rogers winced only briefly at the burning sensation above his right eyebrow.

His skin was marred by smoke and dust from the debris of a collapsed building, and his infamous uniform was laden with rips and tears that flashed bright red abrasions beneath them.

Yet his focus appeared not to be on the current state of his bodily health, or the incredulous events that had found him torn from the Earth and trapped in the very fabric of space and time. No. It was his current surroundings that he found most mystifying.

"So... This is... Some sort of spaceship?" he queried, almost blushing at how utterly ridiculous his question sounded.

Nodding his head with his usual buoyant enthusiasm, the Doctor rubbed his hands together with glee and began to pull and push several levers on the controls of his time machine.

"Not just any space ship, Captain!" he enthused, "this my fine fellow, is the Tardis..."

His smile was almost comically wide, eyebrows raised in anticipation, as if he expected their guest to instantly be familiar with his beloved ship.

Smiling at the Time Lord's manic grin and the superhero's confused frown, Clara deposited the First Aid box she had foraged from beneath the control console, and explained, "It's a space ship... And a time machine. And that slightly dodgy looking bloke over there in the bow tie, that's the Doctor. He's a Time Lord. I suppose you don't really rememeber us after... everything."

Brows knitting into a frown, Steve rubbed his forehead as if either anticipating a migraine or believing a head injury was to blame for his obvious hallucination.

"But you're the guy from UNIT. I do remember you and... You..." he gazed at Clara, "you were there too. Peg and I, we..."

Clara nodded solemnly, picking up a piece of cotton wool, which she liberally doused with antiseptic. "You saved my life."

"I heard all the talk about time travel but I just thought... I guess I don't know what I thought..." Steve shook his head, clearly unable to digest the rather unlikely information.

Striding over, his tail coat flapping as he crossed the bridge, the Doctor stood before the Avenger and released a sigh he hoped would secure the man's attention.

"Alright, so... I'm a Time Lord, I'm an alien... Two hearts, forty seven brains... Forty eight on a good day, and... I'm..." hearing Clara clear her throat pointedly, he amended with a smile, " _we_ , are here to help you, Captain Rogers..."

"Why would you help me?" Steve seemed genuinely bemused by the degree of energy that had obviously gone in to saving him.

Swallowing hard, the Doctor reached for Clara's hand and clutched it tightly in his own. Steve's eyes immediately detected the gesture, and slowly but surely the stranger's motives began to make sense.

"Because you saved something infinitely precious to me, once. And because... It's the right thing to do."

Both hoping and anticipating that he already knew the answer to the question he was poised to ask, the Doctor lowered his voice, emphasizing the importance of the proposition.

Clara stared between the pair expectantly, the hopeless romantic in her utterly bewitched by the tragic love story Steve had sadly been a part of.

"So, the question is, Captain... In all of time and space, where do you want to go?"

Slowly but surely, an incredulous smile appeared on Steve's face, and he glanced at Clara as if wanting her confirmation that this was in fact the answer to a dream he had long ago given up on.

Hugging Clara to his side and pressing an affectionate kiss to her temple, the Doctor smiled with genuine and unbridled joy as he added softly, "Let's get you home, Captain Rogers!"


	4. Chapter 4

Hiding one's emotions had become something Agent Peggy Carter excelled at in her short, yet celebrated career.

From concealing her fears about impending missions behind enemy lines from the men under her command, to utilising that oh so British 'stiff upper lip' in times of general crisis, Peggy was a master at adopting a suitably poised and elegant mask.

Tonight, however, that mask was in danger of slipping, and if the purely murderous glares she had been shooting in Howard's direction all evening had not alerted him to her abject annoyance at his matchmaking attempts, the swift kicks she directed towards his shins beneath the table could have been taken as clear indicators of her building rage.

"Oh my gosh, Peggy... I just love how you talk. It's like so... So smart, ya know?!" the doe-eyed blonde, who she now knew as Gladys, placed a cigarette between her lips and regarded the brunette with obvious admiration. Blushing and fawning appropriately as Howard swooped in to light the cigarette with a flourish and a two thousand dollar lighter, Gladys blew out a cloud of smoke and cleared her throat against the coughing fit she felt about to give her away.

"So..."Gladys propped her chin in her palm and stared back at Peggy as if she were some sort of exhibit. "Have you met the King? What's he like? His brother's kind of handsome, huh?"

Smiling tightly, Peggy shook her head and took a sip of her champagne. "I'm afraid the King and I move in slightly different circles."

"Oh. Bummer," Gladys whined, taking a healthy glug of champagne into her mouth and swallowing with a wince against the gassy surge of bubbles rising up her throat.

"Indeed," Peggy enthused politely, her eyes once again narrowing to slits as she glared threateningly at Howard and he jammed a finger down his collar and loosened the constricting fabric, as if feeling her hands enclose around his throat.

"You look real nice tonight, Maggie," declared Jim, Peggy's supposedly carefully selected blind date, for what seemed like the seventh successive time in the last few minutes.

"Please, call me Peggy," she responded, her once polite smile now altogether too tight as she reiterated, pointedly, " _please!_ "

Nodding without really appearing to hear, Jim took another swig of his glass of bourbon and wiped a hand across his sweaty brow. Peggy, one eyebrow arched, knocked back the reminder of wine in her glass and thrust it rather pointedly in Howard's direction.

"Drinks are on you tonight, Howard," she hissed through her plastered on smile, "many, many drinks."

Lowering his voice to just above a whisper, Howard leanED back around Glady's chair to reprimand his friend - out of sheer defiance or foolishness, he wasn't quite sure. "Jim's a good pal of mine. Just give him a chance, will ya? Dance with the guy, laugh at his jokes..."

Her eyes blazing with a fury Howard wasn't sure he'd seen before, Peggy snarled, "I can assure you Howard that I find not a minuscule degree of humour in this farcical evening, or indeed in the bigoted, misogynistic 'jokes' that your _good_ friend insists on sharing. Now, if you'd be so kind as to refresh my drink, before I feel compelled to discuss the lengthy attendance register for the back seat of your car."

"Peg!" Howard held up his hand defensively, squinting as he tried to determine just how serious she was. "You wouldn't..."

"Try me," Peggy retorted, eyebrow raised as she adopted an expression that made Howard's blood run cold.

Whirling around in his seat, Howard snapped his fingers at a passing waiter, and within minutes a fresh magnum of champagne had been positioned in the centre of the table and Peggy's glass dutifully refilled.

"... So, so I says to him, shit Chuck, why'd ya have to take your damn pants off?" Jim roared with laughter, his hands resting on his rounded stomach as he lifted his bourbon to his lips and drained the dregs from the bottom of the glass.

Forcing a brief and wholly insincere smile, Peggy raised both eyebrows and regarded her rather unfortunate choice of date with a gaze that most sober men would have realised was loathing.

"What an utterly charming story!"

"I know, right, Maggie?" he replied, his laughter subsiding somewhat as Howard shot him a look and shook his head in a warning gesture.

Appearing not to pick up on the significance of the action, Jim leaned forward and clasped Peggy's knee with one hand, his smile a curious combination of shy and yet lustful.

Peggy seized the offending appendage immediately, her fingernails digging painfully into the flesh of the man's unwelcome hand. She tried not to dwell too long on how satisfying it might be to break several of his wandering fingers with a mere flick of her wrist, instead glaring deep into his eyes.

"Now, now, we barely know each other," she chided, her tone bordering on murderous. Jim nodded somewhat meekly, quickly withdrawing his hand and cradling it to his chest as though it were a wounded animal.

"See, now that's a real lady," Gladys chimed in, nodding approvingly at Peggy. "I wish I could be that frigid."

Raising her eyes to the heavens in a bid - and perhaps a silent plea - to keep her temper in check, Peggy rose from the table with an urgency that made Howard also climb to his feet.

"I'm afraid I really must be going," Peggy stated, about to snatch up her evening bag when Jim seized the initiative and her left hand.

"Look, I'm sorry... I get it, I get it. You're a classy dame, I... I apologise if I've offended you." Jim smiled what he hoped was his most convincingly apologetic smile, and Peggy sighed heavily as she debated her course of action.

About to respond with a suitably pointed yet polite 'goodbye', Peggy found her eyes darting to the figure of a tall, blonde haired man who crossed her field of vision so quickly that he might have been an apparition. Blinking rapidly and instantly chiding the pathetically hopeful feeling that overcame her, Peggy craned her neck to follow his imposing figure, irritated when a crowd of swaying dancers blocked her view.

"Someone you know?" Howard queried, having caught the unusually distracted expression on her face.

"I... No. No, just thought I saw an old friend, that's all," she shook her head, sure that her cheeks were now the same colour as the red dress she was wearing for the occasion.

Feeling instantly foolish, Peggy wanted nothing more than to head home to the sanctity of her apartment, with a good book and a cup of Horlicks. But Jim was not to be discarded or dissuaded so easily, and he all but dragged her toward the dance floor.

"Just one dance, Peggy?" he pleaded, his green eyes twinkling as he added in a pathetically calculating tone of voice that he frequently used on secretaries in his office. "Humour an old fool, huh?"

Seeing through him almost immediately, Peggy rolled her eyes and rewarded him with a thoroughly disparaging stare. "Oh for heaven's sake! Fine. One dance, and then I'm afraid I must go home."

"Thank you! I'm honoured, truly I..." Jim began to babble in his loud, phoney voice.

"Might I suggest we make this a silent dance?" Peggy interjected, her smile barely present, "I really do concentrate better when nobody is talking."

Jim nodded, his grin not once wavering although it was apparent that Peggy was less than thrilled to be in his arms. He was certain that he was holding onto the most beautiful woman in the entire club, and so he supposed he may as well enjoy the fact and the envious glances directed at him by the other male patrons before Peggy Carter walked out the door and into the night.

Keeping her eyes trained on the band, who were now playing a ballad Peggy was at once sadly familiar with, she allowed the rather portly man to lead her in a slow and fumbled dance. Her mind drifted, fixating on the lyrics of the song, 'Ill Be Seeing You' was perhaps the most poignant of reminders for many broken hearts in the club that night. Peggy reminded herself constantly that she had not been the only one to lose a loved one in the conflict that had overshadowed the world in that dark time.

It was only when she noted the tall, fair haired stranger behind Jim's shoulder, that her attention was seized.

"Mind if I cut in?" he asked, and Peggy felt her heart stammer to a stop, as she stumbled back from Jim's arms and her hand flew over her gaping mouth.

"Bloody hell... Howard, what was in that champagne?" Peggy gasped, her eyes wide and her hands trembling as she stared into the face of Captain Steve Rogers.

He seemed different somehow; older, rougher around the edges and perhaps just a touch more jaded than the Steve that Peggy had known years ago. Gone was the familiar red, white and blue outfit that had meant so much to so many, and in its place Steve wore a smart grey three piece suit. His hand hovered uncomfortably about his pocket and his eyes flitted nervously from Peggy to a stupefied Howard and back again.

"Steve... Bud... Is it really..." Howard stammered, pausing in order to throw back a slug of scotch as he continued to stare at the ghost that had haunted his dreams for years.

"It's me, Stark," Steve replied, his smile still dazzling and yet not quite reaching his eyes as it once had. He moved forwards slowly and almost hesitantly, his arms outstretched to Peggy, who remained where she was, not trusting her own legs to carry her forwards, no matter how much her heart urged her on.

"You're hurt..." Peggy breathed, tears beginning to ebb from the corners of her eyes as she took in the darkening bruises lining Steve's face and brow, and the tiny cuts that littered his skin. He seemed to be favouring his left leg also, and his breathing was a little more shallow than was truly natural, perhaps hinting a few broken ribs.

He stared at her for a moment in silence, an expression of awe and adoration settling on his features, tinged with an odd sense of grief that still gnawed at his heart. He had watched, heartbroken, as they had lowered her coffin into the ground, yet now here she was; alive and young again, vibrant and just as beautiful as he always remembered her.

Closing the distance between them, and ignoring the attempt at a protest from Jim, Steve stepped forward as Peggy managed to will her errant feet to move, and she tumbled into his arms, clinging fast to him, afraid to let go.

Gone was the pretence and mask Peggy had spent so long cultivating, and she allowed herself to give in to her emotions, her fingers grasping the fabric of his suit as she pressed her lips against his wonderfully warm neck, and revelled in the feel of his hands sweeping circles across her back.

"Shhh, it's okay, Peg," pressing a kiss to the top of her head, Steve rocked her gently in his arms, closing his eyes as he felt her tears splash against his skin. "I'm home."

Peggy lifted her head from his shoulder and reached out with a trembling hand to stroke his cheek. Her palm landed against his jaw, and she gazed up into his blue eyes, sadness tainting her features.

"My darling... It's been so long."

"A lifetime," he said softly, knowing she could not yet realise the awful truth behind his words.

"I don't understand... How can this..." Howard interjected, raking one hand through to the ends of his already dishevelled hair as he continued to stare at Steve, transfixed.

A kind of hush had fallen across the dance hall, although the band still continued to play softly in the background. However, the crowd of dancers had long since parted and most were staring in a mixture of confusion and interest in Steve's direction. There were some who doubtlessly recognised him, but for most he was simply a mysterious, handsome stranger who had appeared from seemingly nowhere to sweep a beautiful lady off her feet in a manner befitting a fairytale.

"It doesn't matter," Peggy said firmly, drawing away from the embrace only to peer up into Steve's face as though he alone hung the moon and stars.

"It'll make a hell of a story," Steve replied, unshed tears glistening in his eyes as he regarded her.

Choosing her words carefully, as if afraid he was somehow going to slip from her grasp again, Peggy widened her eyes as she asked uncertainly, "And we have plenty of time for you to tell me all about it?"

Taking a slow, deep breath, Steve nodded in reassurance, a broad smile settling on his features. "I was thinking maybe the next fifty? Sixty years at least?"

Unable to contain her tears any longer, Peggy laughed softly as tear drops began to spill freely from her eyes, and an almost giddy smile overcame her.

"At the very least, Captain."

"Well I'm glad we got that figured out, I was... I was kind of nervous, thought I might have been too late?" Steve smiled in such a characteristically self-deprecating gesture that Peggy felt instantly as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. Grief and regret were heavy burdens to carry, after all, and in the years since his death Peggy had not only mourned the man she loved, but the life they could have lived together.

Resting her cheek against his, Peggy replied tearfully, "Oh, Steve... It was always you, my darling. It could only ever have been you."

"This is like a movie!" Gladys exclaimed, grinning widely as she began to heckle. "Kiss her! Go on, buddy, plant one on her!"

Peggy laughed through her tears, shooting the other woman a glance that was now only half scathing.

"That's the first sensible thing she's said all bloody night!" Peggy stated, turning back to Steve with a coy smile playing across her lips.

He grinned and, despite the very obvious battle scars that littered his face, for the first time he seemed truly happy. Dragging Peggy into his chest, Steve craned his neck downwards and pressed his lips against hers, the heat of her body so close to his own that it brought a flush of colour to his cheeks. The kiss was remarkably chaste and tender for two lovers who had been separated for so long, but Peggy hardly minded; not with the promise of so much more to come.

her face with kisses, Steve breathed in the scent he had once committed to memory. "It's so good to see you, Peg."

"You have no idea," Peggy echoed the sentiment, smiling as he slid his hands down her arms and entangled his fingers through hers.

Casting a glance behind them to where Howard, an unfamiliar blonde, and a wholly unwelcome man sat, Steve clasped Peggy's hands in his own.

"So, what happens now?" Peggy asked, following his gaze and giggling as she saw their audience's enraptured and wholly confused expressions.

"Well now, you teach me to dance, Agent Carter..." Steve began with a sentimental smile tugging at his lips, "but I warn you, I might tread on your toes..."

Stepping into his embrace, Peggy slid one arm around his neck and raised their entwined hands to adopt the correct stance.

"Oh, I think I can work with that. Besides, I'm absolutely positive that I've got the right partner."

As if on cue, the band began to play a ballad, and Peggy smiled as she rested her head on his shoulder. The strains of the song drifted over the crowd of patrons, many of whom, like Peggy, had been moved to tears more than once by the lyrics of the wartime favourite.

The couple moved across the dance floor, frequently pausing to sway gently to the music, their eyes greedily taking in the sight of the other and revelling in an embrace each had thought impossible mere minutes before.

They remained so enraptured in each other, that they failed to notice the discreet glances being directed their way by another couple, who were exchanging similarly smitten smiles as they swayed to the slightly melancholy ballad in quiet contemplation. It was not war that had kept these two lovers apart, but the fabric of time and space itself.

Cheek pressed to his shoulder, Clara sighed contentedly as the Doctor brushed gentle kisses against her temple, and her fingertips stroked the hair at the nape of his neck.

"You're a good man, Doctor," Clara stated, her brown eyes glistening with tears as she watched Steve and Peggy from afar. The joy and mutual adoration that adorned their faces made her own heart happy, and she wound her arms tighter around her lover's neck and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you," she said softly, "for helping them find each other."

The Time Lord smiled and pretended to ponder his change of heart for only a moment, his gaze drifting off beyond the dim spot lights and candle light adorning the tables.

"I believe I owed the good Captain a great debt," he explained, his breath ghosting her cheek as he held her close and willed his thoughts not to dwell on what might have happened had Steve Rogers not been there to save his Impossible Girl. "You are... Very precious to me, Clara Oswald. I searched through time for you, once, it seemed only fair that I helped him do the same."

"Getting soft in your old age?" Clara teased, her smile widening as he rolled his eyes and tutted at her, yet held her even closer in response.

Her tone softening to convey the sentiment and truth in her words, she added in barely above a whisper, "And you're very precious to me, too, Doctor."

A beaming smile immediately illuminated his features and he laughed against her lips as she leaned up and kissed him. Pressing his cheek to hers, the Doctor expertly drifted through the crowd, bending and dipping and twirling his companion until she threw her head back and laughed - a sound that never failed to make both of his hearts swell with happiness.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I think everything turned out quite well... All things considered."

Clara peered over at the newly reunited couple and wrinkled her nose in a silent 'awww' as she watched Steve twirl a beaming Peggy into his arms. They continued to dance, pausing only to exchange kisses or whispered affirmations.

"Are they going to be okay?" Clara asked, indicating with a pensive frown that she'd be extremely upset to hear any evidence to the contrary. "I know you don't usually like meddling with time lines and stuff like that, but... It seemed so sad to keep them apart."

"I promise you, Clara, they're going to be just fine," the Doctor reassured her, craning his neck to whisper discretely in her ear. She shivered at the feel of his breath on her skin, and gripped his shoulder a little tighter in response.

"If you recall, Peggy Carter was married..."

"Yeah, but her husband's name was never..." Clara froze suddenly, her eyes widening as realisation hit. "Wait a minute, do you mean that she ended up with Captain America all along?"

The Doctor grinned, a suitably proud expression on his face as he arched an eyebrow and replied, "I just didn't know that I'd be the one to bring them together, or that _you_ would be the reason."

Casting her gaze across the room, Clara soaked up the ambience with a suitably content smile, positively thrilled by the events of the day. Though being attacked by a crazed Nazi spy hadn't been on her 'to do' list when she woke up that morning, the culmination of events had been one of the greatest things she thought she had ever experienced at the Doctor's side.

She hated the idea of lost love, perhaps because she had once been lost to hers. And if anybody deserved happiness, it was heroes like Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers.

"Can we stay for one more dance?" she asked, finding herself caught up in the romance and sentimentality of the moment, and perhaps the era in general.

"Whatever you want, Clara," the Doctor replied, happy to indulge her if it meant he got to hold her in his arms for just a moment longer.

One dance turned to three or four, yet neither couple seemed inclined to leave, content to remain in the arms of their love, the gentle strains of ballads and the twinkling lights above providing a perfect setting for the memories they made in that moment.

Smiling as she broke apart from a tender kiss, Peggy allowed the lyrics of the song beginning to play to wash over her, as she gazed up at Steve and wondered if she'd ever felt a joy as pure as this.

"This has always been one of my favourites..." she whispered, the tip of her nose brushing against Steve's, her voice breathy as she finished, "now, Captain Rogers, I think I know why..."

' _Some enchanted evening  
When you find your true love,  
When you feel her call you  
Across a crowded room,  
Then fly to her side,  
And make her your own  
Or all through your life you  
May dream all alone._ _'_


End file.
